


A Kiss (To Build A Dream On)

by galaxygerbil



Series: best possible worlds [2]
Category: Red Velvet (K-pop Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fallout (Video Games) Setting, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-21 03:17:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16151408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxygerbil/pseuds/galaxygerbil
Summary: There are other things and other people that should fill up Irene’s time, but maybe… Maybe just for now, it can be her in Irene’s heart. Just her on Irene’s mind.Everything else can wait until tomorrow. Wendy just wants tonight.(Red Velvet Fallout 4 AU)





	A Kiss (To Build A Dream On)

Wendy wakes up with oil and grime on her face.

She grimaces, rubbing the sleeve of her blue plaid against the cheek she’d had resting on the desk of her work station. This isn’t the first time she’s fallen asleep in the middle of working, but this one project was truly taking a toll on her. Despite having the codes for it, crafting the signal interceptor is _a lot_ more difficult than she’d first anticipated. Probably tenfold what she’d been expecting— and it didn’t help that they needed it as soon as possible.

Wendy’s been working non-stop for a while; the sun of today long gone and replaced with the musky air and static energy of a party night in Sanctuary Hills.

She stops to take a breather and wake herself up, right by the open window of the workspace. The square— an allotted plot of land dedicated for recreation (mostly dancing and convening)— can’t be seen directly from here, but the lights bounce off the houses surrounding it, and the swing of the music bleeds through.

Wendy can’t help but smile at all the hard work Irene and her soldiers (and Wendy, too) had put into raising this once nuclear bomb-torn town to become one of the most well-defended and well-equipped settlements.

 _This_ is what the Minutemen have been striving for: a self-sustaining town with an atmosphere of peace amidst the abyss of hopelessness that was the rest of the Commonwealth. _This_ is what Wendy works hard to achieve with every settlement she crosses.

The only other place that was more heavily guarded than this was The Castle— and those were their _headquarters_. She thinks she and Irene have the privilege of being proud of how far this small town has come.

“I figured I’d find you here.”

Speaking of the Minutemen’s General.

Wendy turns to see Irene staring at her with a gentle smile, signature well-worn bomber jacket on her shoulders and rugged jeans on her lithe legs. As always, Wendy doesn’t hear her make a sound when she comes in; Irene as deadly and silent as the shadows. She doesn’t blame the Raiders that never felt her coming for them.

“Hey, General.” Wendy greets softly, conscious of her greasy hands streaked with oil and coated with dirt.

The lights from outside are practically dancing on the other woman, setting her pale skin aglow. Wendy almost can’t bear to look at her, which is why she instantly turns around to sit back at her station.

“What brings you here? The party’s outside.” Wendy remarks.

She doesn’t hear Irene move closer— still making just as much noise as a ghost— only feels the older look over her shoulder to see a mess of jumbled up electronics on the desk.

The tinkerer simply moves the magnifying glass into a better position and continues where she left off.

“Aren’t you overworking yourself?” the General asks, shoving small (but so _so_ strong) hands into pockets. “You’ve been at it for hours already.”

She doesn’t mean to brag, but— “It’s what makes me the best at what I do, though. I accomplish things quickly and without mistakes. Continuous, methodical work is just a consequence of it.”

Irene rolls her eyes in response, and Wendy hides a smile. The older can’t seriously come after _her_ for working hard when she’s sure Irene only _just_ came back from the platform where they were setting up the device; the General’s own perfectionist tendencies are almost legendary enough on their own merit.

“You should be out there.” Wendy says lightly as she locks in a few more pieces together. “Take some time to relax. Tomorrow is a big day for you.”

If everything goes according to plan, then Wendy will have the signal interceptor up and ready to go in the morning; hopefully getting Irene where she needs to go.

Leaving Wendy behind.

 _Don’t think like that_ , she reprimands herself. Irene has her own important mission. They’d only come across each other months ago by pure luck. _Stop_.

Irene’s hum interrupts her thoughts; the older’s voice a low rumble. It's actually one of the things Wendy finds fascinating about the vault dweller: the fact that such a powerfully charming sound could come out of such a tiny body. It was mesmerizing.

 _Careful, careful_ , she reminds herself when she feels her eyes stray towards Irene a little too much; her stare a split-second too long. _That's not what she needs right now._

All she needs is Wendy’s loyalty and dedication. The Railroad and their technology is still a big concern, along with the Brotherhood of Steel and their internal strife.

Seulgi. Joy.

And— Yeri.

There’s still _Yeri_ , whom Irene would do absolutely anything and everything for. Whether or not tomorrow’s mission was successful, Irene would go full throttle into it if it meant it would bring her closer to her. Yeri is Irene’s future.

Wendy is just a stepping stone for that to happen; a convenient mechanical genius that can (almost single-handedly) build the metaphorical bridge to reunite them.

“Come with me.”

_Huh?_

Irene is by the window, now, looking out at the view of the town they’d built together. Wendy remembers coming down here for the first time with her way back when they were still strangers tangled into a partnership out of the safety numbers can provide. Remembers kicking away straggling debris and collecting metals long bent out of shape but still fixable; because Wendy was nothing if not the best at fixing broken things.

She remembers Irene’s eyes, heavy with anger and sadness mixing into resignation. Until the fire of a need for redemption brought her back; saying _Let’s start here_.

And so Wendy did. They built a haven together from the rubble.

“Why don’t you clean yourself up first?” the older says wryly in that deep, deep voice that sends shivers down Wendy’s spine and gets her knees weak. “Then let’s get out there.”

Will Wendy ever get the chance to say what she wants to say? That, for Irene, she’d swim across miles of radioactive water if it meant it would make her happy? She’d go anywhere with her.

Probably not.

She has to put Irene and her own goals first. Wendy has always been like that; has always _loved_ like that. So, instead, she says, “I won’t be able to finish it on time if I stop now.”

Irene frowns.

Wendy backtracks at the look on the other’s face and tries to reassure her. “I promise, this will only take—”

“Blue.” Irene cuts her off, and Wendy shuts up at the nickname the other has fondly given her since their first encounter; Wendy wearing her scuffed blue plaid and Irene itching to tear off her own blue Vault 111 jumpsuit.

There’s a quality to the older’s voice that just incites one to stop and listen (and _trust_ ). It was no wonder she had been appointed General— there was no going against that commanding tone.

Irene’s next words are simple but powerful. “I won’t ask again.”

“Okay.” Wendy manages to reply, breathlessly. “Let me change my shirt first.”

There’s a moment of consideration when Irene’s eyes flit to the side before they snap back and trap Wendy in her gaze, the younger only halfway out her seat but pinned by two doe-like eyes. A pout starts to form on the older’s lips.

“But this is my favorite shirt on you,” Irene lets her know softly, eyes big and bold and irresistible.

_Jesus. Is she doing this on purpose?_

Wendy stutters out a reply between a shriek and a choke. “I— Uh. Okay.” Okay. Alright. “I’ll just clean my hands and face then.”

She sees mirth sparkle in Irene’s eyes and a quirk settle upon her lips; and Wendy would be taken aback by the beauty of it if she didn’t spend weeks at a time with the adventurer. She would dive headfirst into danger if Irene stepped a foot in said direction.

Every single time the older so much as _thinks_ of needing a companion— Wendy will drop everything, take a peek down the rabbit hole, and _jump_.

 

~☢~

 

The drinks are surprisingly palatable tonight.

Moonshine doesn’t usually sit right with Wendy’s taste buds; it’s a little too much spirit packed in a traitorous clear liquid, but tonight it’s good. Tonight it’s different.

Wendy tucks a few strands of hair behind an ear and watches Irene gaze at the square lit up by warm moonlight. The elder’s told her that Sanctuary Hills used to be her home, once upon a time; before the bombs dropped.

She swirls the alcohol in her glass, wondering what Irene thinks of falling asleep to the world ending and waking up to it still at war.

“It’s a lot more lively than a hundred years ago.” the elder speaks up after waving to a few settlers passing by their spot. Her eyes are dark but there’s a sparkle of brightness in them when she looks at their faces.

“Yeah?”

Irene nods, thoughtful. “Used to be all white picket fences and fake smiles. Not this.”

“This seems like the opposite of that.” Wendy remarks, gazing at pairs that danced together. “All broken wood and genuine smiles.”

The elder tilts her head in acquiescence, a wry smile plastered on her lips. Wendy tries not to stare— she really _really_ does. But Irene is stunning and the liquor is strong and Wendy has been in love with her since the woman first showed up in in the middle of a combat zone, a little banged up and confused but absolutely breathtaking.

 _Get a grip_ , Wendy berates herself.

She lets out a breath, conscious of the stink of alcohol on the tip of her tongue. The rest of the settlers are enjoying the music from the radio blasted through the speakers Wendy had revamped herself. It was incredibly satisfying to be useful.

“Useful is for things. Not people.” Irene says, frowning.

_Oh fuck. Don't tell me I'm saying things out loud now._

Irene lets out a laugh that overpowers the music— which is saying something. Wendy rebuilt the big guns in terms of speaker volume. “Yeah. You are.”

Wendy groans. “Stop it.” she reprimands herself with a whine, pinching her own cheek. She squeaks at the pain.

The General just shakes her head. “You’re ridiculous.” she comments, smiling into the cup of water she’s drinking; eyes locked in on Wendy’s face. Wendy’s eyes linger on the bobbing of Irene’s throat and takes a gulp herself, starting to feel the heat of flushing cheeks.

“You’ve had quite a few glasses tonight. It’s good to see you drink more than five.”

Wendy’s jaw drops. “ _What?!_ You let me have that much?” she says, and before she can wonder what exactly she means by expecting Irene to look after her, she ends up thinking out loud even more. “I’m literally the only one building th—”

“Blue,” Irene cuts her off soothingly, eyebrows furrowing as she focuses her intense gaze on Wendy and all the weight of the world that comes with it. “You’ve been working too hard. You need to let yourself rest and let loose too.”

The younger huffs, a bit unsure. It doesn't make sense; Irene wasn’t usually one to let Wendy do whatever she wanted. The tinkerer is used to an arm stopping her from doing something stupid or a voice by her ear telling her she knows better.

Irene is… not this. No matter how much Wendy needs rest, Irene has never been one to encourage losing control of one's self.

It’s starting to look like— “Seems like you’re delaying the completion of the project.”

Irene’s mouth snaps shut, and something clicks in Wendy’s mind.

“You _are_.” she lets out a breath in realization, abandoning her cup at the table nearest to them. “ _Why?_ I thought this was all for Yeri? Don’t you want to see her? Don’t you want to _save_ her? Who knows what the Institute has done all the while she’s not with you?”

“I _do_ want to be with her.” Irene finally says, softly and hesitantly, eyes downcast. Wendy almost wants to smack herself from being so brash as to make Irene fold into herself.

Irene was a one-woman army, but sometimes, she’s also… everything else. Wendy has to step back and realize that. Irene is the sole survivor of a cryostasis experiment and the savior of Concord and countless other places, yes, but she's also just a 24-year-old just as lost as everyone else, if not more.

So she places a hand on Irene’s arm, rubbing circles on it gently, the only way she knows how to touch the Vault dweller. “Then what’s the matter?” she asks, softly, carefully.

The General heaves a sigh, and Wendy gets it. Irene isn’t used to expressing her troubles with the people around her; much less with people she doesn’t trust.

Wendy isn’t that though.

She’s _Wendy_. More specifically— Irene’s Wendy. Even before the older woman had become the Minutemen’s General, Wendy knew she’d follow her to the ends of the Commonwealth and even beyond.

So Wendy tells her. “It’s just me, Irene. You know I’m always on your side.”

It seems to do the trick; Irene’s shoulders slumping in defeat. “What if… What if she doesn’t remember me?” she asks worriedly, “I can’t just steal her away— she’s too young to understand. And I don’t even know how to take care of a child. She’s— I’m— I—”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Wendy stops Irene from panicking (gently, gently) patting her arms and shoulders. Irene’s face gives nothing away, but her eyes are in turmoil— Wendy’s always known to read Irene by her black pools. “I’m right here. Whatever you’ll end up facing, you’ve got me with you.”

Irene looks back at her. “You don’t know how to take care of a kid either.”

“Well, better you and me both than just you alone, right?” Wendy remarks kindly. “We’ll figure it out together. You and me.”

There’s something in the way Irene is looking at her that makes Wendy pause and backtrack what she’s just said. It was a little mirth, a little confusion, a little apprehension in her eyes. And _great_ , Wendy’s just managed to make things awkward with her best friend. (Her best friend whom she’s been crushing on since what feels like forever, but still.)

“I mean—”

“You always... say things like that.” the General murmurs so quietly Wendy almost doesn’t catch it. “I don’t know what you mean when you do.” she admits, looking down and fiddling with her Pip-Boy like a kicked puppy.

Wendy blinks. _Great going, stupid_.

Irene clenches her jaw; Wendy almost swooning at how endearingly beautiful the sight is when the doe-like eyes zero in on her once again. Irene looks and she sees what only _she_ can. Things the younger only lets _her_ see; Wendy and all her flaws with her too-loud voice and too-awkward bumbling.

The music changes and the sound of a trumpet starts to dance around them.

Wendy’s eyes are roaming all over Irene’s face now; the slowly-healing scars and the furrow in her brows; the soft lines of her stature and jagged edges of her energy; the way she looks at Wendy— _just_ Wendy, sometimes.

There are other things and other people that should fill up Irene’s time, but maybe… Maybe just for now, it can be her in Irene’s heart. Just her on Irene’s mind.

Everything else can wait until tomorrow. Wendy just wants tonight.

“General—”

“ _Irene_. It's always been Irene. We met before all of that.”

Wendy gulps, and then gives a nod. “ _Irene_.” she says, looking up into eyes that have never held anything less than the universe in them. “I…”

 _Wish_ —

 _Think we_ —

 _Want_ —

Words aren't working right now. She can’t say the syllables without tripping over them; can’t voice her thoughts without jumbling them all up.

So Wendy does the next best thing.

Under the moonlight and the shade of a bar that they'd built from scratch, Wendy leans in, thinking of Deathclaws and Super Mutants and Feral Ghouls; a single woman fearlessly facing all of that, right smack in front of the Museum of Freedom at Concord. She places her lips against the other's own, just an inch higher, thinking of desperate civilians and injured soldiers and a secretive faction winning a war that’s tearing the land apart; the strongest and smartest person Wendy’s ever known bringing peace wherever she goes, and now she’s going _there_.

Irene, Irene, _Irene_. _There’s still so much I want to say. Please stay safe. Please come back._

 _Please be mine_.

Wendy breathes Irene in and longs for tomorrow to never come, because tomorrow is uncertain and all she can assure is tonight. Irene responds with her lips and her voice and her hands, just as fervently.

The radio plays through the speakers, swaying in time with the rhythm they've created together and the promise that can only be articulated with lips upon lips.

_Give me a kiss before you leave me_  
_And my imagination will feed my hungry heart_  
_Leave me one thing before we part_  
_A kiss to build a dream on_

 

~☢~

 

Wendy pulls Irene closer, closer, _closer_ , until every inch of her is met with the soft kisses of Irene’s pale skin.  The older woman asks her if it's the alcohol, and Wendy makes a face and scoffs, as if asking if Irene thinks she can't handle her liquor.

“What? You drank a lot.” Irene murmurs into her skin as her fingers dig deeper into the curve of Wendy’s hips. The younger tries not to moan _too_ loudly.

“It's hard for me to get drunk on Moonshine. All bark and no bite.” Wendy giggles when goosebumps burst at the touch of her hand on Irene’s back.

They're on the bed now, Wendy sinking into the mattress with Irene on top; their bodies fitting together so perfectly it almost feels like everything is right with the world; _again_ for Irene and _for once_ for Wendy.

Wendy looks up at Irene’s sparkling eyes, thinking that if there was any perfect time to tell her she loves her, it would be _now_. Before she gets the wrong idea.

But instead of voicing her thoughts, Wendy instead slowly draws circles all over the older woman’s skin, trying to carve all her accumulated feelings into Irene’s blood so she won’t forget— so Irene will not misunderstand— so the General will never mistake her happiness as just a replacement for loneliness, because Wendy has only _known_ loneliness all her life.

Irene gently takes her hand in hers and kisses a pale wrist, humming to the beat of Wendy’s heart thrumming in her ribcage. If Irene keeps looking at her like that, she might never be able to let go.

She sees it in Irene’s eyes before she hears it spoken into the night air. Nonetheless, it makes Wendy’s heart swell in her chest.

“Let me love you.” Irene whispers, deep pools of black centering Wendy; because otherwise Wendy was sure she’d flutter away along with her breath and her lungs in the face of such adoration.

“Please.” Wendy asks. _Please do. Please don’t forget. Please know_.

 

~☢~

 

Wendy wakes up the next day with her arms around Irene and a 90% finished project. The sun's rays make the older glow in a way that’s different than the moonlight; a little less secretive, a little less pale. Wendy plants lips against skin to wake her and Irene snuggles into the warmth of day found at the crook of the smaller woman's neck.

In the morning light, Wendy accepts that she has to both finish the signal interceptor and let go of a fairytale that's barely begun.

 

~☢~

 

To say the Institute and all that comes with it is unknown territory would be the understatement of the century. There are absolutely no certainties with regard to it, but it's the only way to get Irene to Yeri. It's the only way for any of them to make sure the toddler was alive and safe.

She stands from her spot by the generators after finally having connected them, a few Minutemen by her side to watch. Irene is staring at the empty spot she has to stand in; in fear or in excitement, Wendy is unsure.

“We’re good.” the tinkerer says, brushing her grimy hands on her own pair of rugged jeans. Her hard work over the past few weeks has resulted in a platform in the middle of various metal instruments that will hopefully reunite the two sisters. “You ready?”

Irene nods when Wendy gets close. “As I’ll ever be, I think.”

There are too many things left to be said; their unspoken feelings and unspoken intentions, but both keep them to themselves. To Wendy, it’s the only way she’s sure that Irene will have a reason to come back. At least this way she has motive to return.

“All clear, Wendy?” the Lieutenant asks, and Irene straightens her posture.

The smaller woman nods. “Good to go.” she says before biting her lip, “Could you give us a moment?”

He nods and the rest of them acquiesce as well, leaving just Irene and Wendy by the front of the platform.

“You don't have t—” Wendy starts to say before Irene cuts her off.

“Wendy. I need to tell you something, in case… I don't come back.”

The tinkerer frowns before grabbing her arms. “Don't tell me.” she insists, staring into the desperate eyes of the woman who’s probably scared out of her life of what’s about to greet her. “Say it when you come back. In person. I want to hear it then.”

Because Wendy already knows what Irene will say. It’s written in the way she caressed her last night; how she sounded and how she felt. She knows.

The older only hesitantly stares at her, but eventually she nods with nothing left to say. Together they get in their places; Wendy powering up the signal interceptor and Irene standing in the middle.

Wendy looks into Irene’s black pools as the device charges up and the General’s eyes hold more electricity in them than a hundred generators combined— at least for Wendy.

The deep dark orbs speak words only Wendy can hear.

_I'll keep safe. I’ll come back. I’m yours._

_Wait for me._

The last thing Wendy sees of Irene is the imprint of her silhouette on her brain as the woman disappears; every molecule transported into the unknown.

But Wendy has faith.

Irene leaves Wendy, just as she always does, but this time the tinkerer is left with hope in the form of a promise that she’ll come back. For her.

 

~☢~

 

A week turns into two, then three, and before anyone knows it four _months_ have passed. Wendy is just about to lose hope when there's no attempted communication, no updates, nothing pointing to Irene returning.

Until, one day, she suddenly does.

And, instead of everything falling into place with the General's arrival, they just get more complicated.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has both a prequel (from Irene's POV) and sequel (from Wendy's POV), so. Wait for that, if you'd like. But I'd appreciate any comment on this one!
> 
> That’s all for now,  
> ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ


End file.
